


What Chance Combination of Shadow and Sound

by Anonymous



Category: The Shadow (Pulp)
Genre: Bondage, Humiliation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:02:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28412100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: During the events of "Crooks Go Straight," Perry Delhugh opts for amusement at the expense of The Shadow.spoilers ahead.mind the tags.
Collections: Anonymous





	What Chance Combination of Shadow and Sound

Perry Delhugh was a confident man, but he was also a careful man. As he descended to the cellar he took with him insurance against the man he had come to realize was The Shadow. He did not expect resistance, and indeed there was none to be found in the coal bin that lay beneath the trapdoors.

The figure of Lamont Cranston, sprawled on the mound of coal, was a still one, and Delhugh set about his work almost cheerfully.

Two large wooden boxes stood in a corner of the coal bin; Delhugh lifted the lid of one and brought forth a coil of rope. With no resistance he easily bound the wrists and ankles. For good measure he added more restraints at the knees and elbows and looped the last of the rope around The Shadow's throat. It would be simple enough to pull, and to keep pulling until any life was gone from the body, but while he was a clever man Delhugh was not an especially strong one and he wanted the job done properly, with no risk of survival on the part of his captive. So instead he found a coil of wire and contented himself with twisting this around the man's bonds, complicating any chance of escape that much further. As a final touch he produced a thick handkerchief to gag his victim and secured the final knot in this with wire as well.

"Just beautiful," he said to himself, and laughed.

Cranston's briefcase lay not far away, The Shadow apparently having dropped it during his fall. Delhugh found it opened quite easily, despite the damning evidence within: a mass of a black cloak, lined with red, as iconic as any calling card. And yet it was evidence Delhugh found unnecessary. In the instant before The Shadow fell he had seen the burning, piercing blue eyes, and in that instant he had known the identity of the man who claimed to be Lamont Cranston.

As he poked through the case's contents there came a stirring from behind him, and Delhugh glanced back to see the eyes that had given The Shadow away flicker open. He abandoned the case for the time being and extracted from his pocket his last bit of insurance--a small clear vial and a slender hypodermic.

"No need to thank me," he said as he undid the buttons of The Shadow's shirt. "I'm sure the landing was painful, if not the fall, and I won't allow my guests to suffer in silence." He filled the syringe from the vial. Beneath him The Shadow struggled to raise himself up, but full consciousness had not returned to him and he fell back. Delhugh smiled at him and slid the needle into the vein below the collarbone. The Shadow tried to wrench himself free but his movements were so restricted that it was simple enough for Delhugh to inject the contents of the syringe into his bloodstream. "Go ahead and fight. You will do the drug's work for it." Then, as The Shadow gave one last tug at his bound arms: "I don't doubt you could free yourself eventually, but do you really think you can do it before the morphine takes effect?"

The Shadow's nostrils flared with a sharp intake of breath and the struggling ceased. He was not stupid, Delhugh knew. Perhaps not as clever as he'd been led to believe, but definitely not stupid.

"Are you a regular user of the dope yourself?" Delhugh asked. "No need to answer. I'm only curious if this will be enough. It hardly matters, though. I have more."

The Shadow's cold eyes remained fixed on Delhugh's.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of." Delhugh smoothed back the lapels of the jacket. "I know the Oxford Groups and the Salvation Armies will tell you that drug use is a moral failing, but as you know I personally try not to judge. I imagine a man like you could gain great relief through drugs. The pressure you must be under! I can hardly imagine." His hands traced down The Shadow's chest to where his bound arms blocked further progress. "It's a shame it's come to this. I would have enjoyed working with you on reforming the criminal justice system. You know as well as anyone how little it really accomplishes, don't you?" One hand slipped into The Shadow's shirt and the body beneath him grew sharply tense. "Of course there are always men like Beak Lasko, proponents of crime for its own sake, but how many men like Zurk and Targan have you known? Men who walked the road of crime because they have no other choice?"

For a moment The Shadow's eyes flickered upwards. Delhugh ran his fingernails lightly down the man's side and smirked at the faint groan he received in return.

"Or perhaps you never noticed at all. Lamont Cranston certainly only congregates with his own kind. Perhaps you have never known struggle the way other men have." He pulled at the sides of the shirt until buttons pulled loose, exposing the pale, scarred chest to the dim light of the cellar. "Hmm. Unless you count physical injuries as the same type of suffering. Are all of these from your war on crime?" He began to trace circles onto The Shadow's chest, circles that grew smaller and smaller as they closed in on his areolae. The Shadow jerked under him, trying to pull away, but Delhugh took him firmly by the rope still coiled around his throat. "I'm sorry, am I embarrassing you?" The faintest of blushes dusted the man's throat and chest. "You don't need to be. Between Cranston's social schedule and The Shadow's work you probably don't have much time for this sort of thing." Delhugh's smile widened. He slipped the tips of his fingers under Cranston's belt, ignoring the weakened man's attempt to push him back. "Now, there's a thought, isn't it? The Shadow, scourge of the underworld, in the throes of passion. I've always wondered whether he had a girl somewhere or if he were an invert or something else entirely." His hand trailed over The Shadow's groin, fingers tightening in a way he knew to be stimulating. Beneath him The Shadow gave a small muffled gasp and some emotion, all but invisible in the dim lights, flickered across his face and was gone. "I will admit I never saw the appeal in homosexuality, myself, but who am I to judge? I don't do this out of misguided lust. I'm doing this because I can, and because I know how much you will hate it."

The words were not yet out of his mouth before The Shadow's fists struck his throat. Had The Shadow possessed the strength to strike in the way he intended the criminal philanthropist would have been flung headfirst into unconsciousness, but the two-story drop had left him dazed. Instead of unconsciousness Delhugh found himself gasping for breath, one hand at the bruise on his throat, and watching The Shadow use his bound arms to drag himself back.

"That's it." Delhugh coughed and gagged. "Fight me. Hard as you can." He felt beside him until his fingers closed around a chunk of coal. Then, with all his strength, Delhugh swung the dark rock into the base of The Shadow's skull.

A sharp exhale sounded and the body of the crime fighter fell all but limp. When Delhugh rolled him to his back, however, his eyes were still open, and they still burned into Delhugh's.

"Go on," Delhugh whispered. "It's better when you fight back."

The Shadow only stared at him, his eyes dazed but unwavering.

Delhugh paused to spit on the floor of the coal bin before shoving the man's bound arms up and out of the way. Cranston--or the man who said he was Cranston--wore a simple narrow belt which Delhugh now unbuckled, yanking the leather free. When he doubled the belt and pulled hard on the ends the leather met with a loud _crack_. He held the belt just over The Shadow's groin and snapped it again, watching for a flinch or a gasp or any sign of fear. He received nothing and instead lay the belt aside. Never one to repeat a mistake, Delhugh took hold of The Shadow's arms by the ropes that bound them and pinned them to one side as he tore the front of his trousers. The Shadow's eyes narrowed but he made no sound.

Delhugh watched his reaction as he slid his free hand up over The Shadow's hips and abdomen and completed the lazy circles he'd been tracing on his chest before being interrupted. The muscles beneath his hands were tense. Delhugh rubbed the nipple for a few moments before taking hold of it and twisting mercilessly. The body beneath him jolted, the restrained arms nearly thrashing him free, and The Shadow gritted his teeth all the tighter, pulling in a sharp breath through that hawkish nose, but his eyes stayed locked on Delhugh's, cold, sharp, and unyielding.

Beneath the undershirt still covering him The Shadow's breathing was uneven but determined. With his eyes on his foe's face Perry Delhugh palmed him through the thin material of his shorts and a smug grin cracked his face as he felt the natural reaction. "For all the fear you inspire you really are just a man, aren't you?"

The Shadow said nothing and did not look away. Even as Delhugh squeezed him so tightly as to bring pain his face betrayed no reaction. The rest of his body was less under his control. His pulse pounded palpably in the part of him that grew harder. The muscles of his thighs shifted. Though he was doing an admirable job of controlling his breath it was still heavy and strained.

"Oh, come now, Lamont. You're going to let me do this? Aren't you going to fight back? It's like you want this to happen." More likely The Shadow was conserving his strength, waiting for an opening, but Delhugh was certain in his belief that he could hold out against the bound man before him. "I suppose that would answer the question of whether you are an invert. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

He pulled back the last layer and The Shadow gave a small, almost imperceptible shudder as the cold air of the cellar touched his hot skin. Delhugh frowned doubtfully; his own tastes ran strictly female and the idea of touching another man flesh to flesh disgusted him. Then he brightened as an idea struck him. He took hold of the rope that still circled The Shadow's throat and dragged him until the criminal philanthropist could reach the lost case, and from the case he pulled that dark, formless mass that was The Shadow's cloak. He lay the thing over his hand and with such a barrier in place felt comfortable taking the man's member into his hand.

The handkerchief that had been forced into The Shadow's mouth trembled as he gritted his teeth.The breath rasped in his throat. He struggled to bring his hands up toward his face--to remove the gag, Delhugh assumed--and when Delhugh's fingers tightened as he jerked the hands back down The Shadow took a stuttering, muffled breath in. His body trembled slightly but he didn't look away.

"Do you think you're intimidating me?" Delhugh asked him with a laugh. "With your goods all out on display? Believe me when I say you couldn't be less intimidating if you tried."

This was only a partial truth. It was true that Delhugh anticipated no trouble from his prisoner, that between the morphine and his bonds there was little The Shadow could do to threaten him. At the same time he found himself slightly concerned that he had yet to get any hint of fear or humiliation from a man who should have been overburdened with both.

Delhugh tried again. Different patterns of movement, pressures, anything to get a reaction from the man he held entirely at his mercy. In the dim cellar light he received little. For a moment Delhugh bristled in irritation, but, he reminded himself, the morphine had probably robbed The Shadow of much of his instinctive reactions. A bit of a disappointment, it was true, but he would content himself with the thought of how much the man must have hated his body's natural response. And from the uncontrollable blush that glowed on the man's chest, throat, and face (Delhugh reasoned) it was clear that he was, in fact, fully experiencing what was happening.

Still, it would be amusing to wring more unintentional sounds from The Shadow. And so he let go of the cloak and moved his hand higher, running his nails lightly over the shaking torso. The man's legs shifted, struggling to hide the source of his stimulation, but even in the dull light his eyes were clearly losing focus and his movements were sluggish. Delhugh rubbed his fingers against the stiffened nipples, which drew another sharp inhale but little else. He pulled at the neckline of the undershirt, debating whether or not the work of destroying it would be worth the pleasure of tearing down one more of The Shadow's walls, and yanked the rope around his neck hard enough that the icy, burning eyes of the man who claimed to be Lamont Cranston fluttered closed. Not a sound came in response. He took hold of the shape beneath the cloak again and the body seemed to arch ever so slightly into the touch but even the roughest touch couldn't drag a sound from The Shadow.

Annoyed, Delhugh dared to let go of the arms he held at bay to work at him with both hands, twisting and tugging. What interest he'd had in humiliating the man he'd managed to fool faded. Now he wanted a sound. A moan, a cry, even a sob would have sufficed. But as all shadows were this one remained silent.

He worked away at The Shadow for some time before he realized that the man was no longer conscious. Even under the weight of the morphine his body still responded a little, but the mind of The Shadow knew nothing more of what happened to him and the last of Delhugh's interest waned. Without bothering to arrange the clothes of his victim he stood, stretched, then set to work heaving the body into a storage container. He returned to Lamont Cranston's briefcase, fully anticipated the legendary 45s would be present, but before he could think of even taking a gun the cellar door rattled.

"Mr. Delhugh?" the servant beyond called in a tremulous voice. "I heard another clatter."

"I made the noise myself, Chilton." Delhugh hurriedly deposited the briefcase into the box with The Shadow, closed the lid, and stepped from the coal bin just as Chilton let himself in. "One of the boxes fell. Help me stack them as they were, won't you."

Together the two men managed to lift one of the wooden boxes and though it was a sizable burden they were able to slide it onto the other, occupied box.

Delhugh dusted his hands. "Now for the Tokay," he said to Chilton. "I'd almost forgotten. Come along."

As he led the way to the wine cellar Perry Delhugh was already considering the angles to this unexpected but not unwelcome discovery. Lamont Cranston was meant to be upstairs, working undisturbed in the study for quite some time, and would not be immediately missed. In the meantime he was safely drugged, trussed, and hidden away under the weight of the second box. Even if he should regain consciousness he would hardly be strong enough to move the weight and free himself.

He would get word to Beak Latzo, Delhugh decided. He would let the man believe that Steve Zurk had bagged this man who had been a threat to his freedom, and he had no doubts that Beak, with his guns and gorillas, could fill the box with lead and dispose of any unsightly remains. In the meantime Chilton and Benzig, both too honorable to be brought in on the plan, would make a perfect alibi.

Perry Delhugh was a careful man, but he had neglected one crucial element. The Shadow had insurance of his own. Across the street a man pulled to the curb as Benzig came to dismiss Cranston's empty limousine.

Strange, thought Harry Vincent. Perhaps it would be wise not to enter yet. He left his car and went to a distant street lamp to observe. He lit a cigarette, and another, and another. At the end of the third cigarette he checked his watch, straightened his jacket, and finally came to ascend the steps to the house.

"Ah, Vincent," Delhugh greeted him as Benzig showed him to the filing room. "Back at work again, I see. Benzig and I are going out to dinner, so I have given the servants the evening off. You don't mind working alone here?"

"Not at all, Mr. Delhugh."

"Excellent. We shall be back before you leave at eleven. Have a good evening."

Harry nodded and set to his secretarial labors. In five minutes he would be alone in the house. In twenty he would make a report to Burbank. In twenty-five he would be creeping silently down the stairs with revolver at the ready.

In five hours Perry Delhugh would return home, cheerfully anticipating the death of The Shadow.

In less than six Perry Delhugh would be a dead man.


End file.
